


Només tu i jo

by nupoxsi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barcelona - nit d'estiu AU, Brotherly Love, Comfort No Hurt, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Friendship/Love, Inspired by a Movie, Love Triangles, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Romantic Comedy, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the story of six different couples around Barcelona during the summer night in which the Rose Comet will be visible in the city’s sky.</p><p>Kun has a plane to catch when he finds Leo in a bookshop. Cesc is a young football promise who has to make a big decision in his life. Iker and Sergio join Xabi for an all-night out. Sergi Roberto tries to convince Bojan to go to a party. Xavi has dinner with old friends and waits for an special guest. Thiago and Rafa discover honesty doesn’t have to do anything with love.</p><p>One night can change the lives of many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kun I

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. After I watched the wonderful movie “ _Barcelona, nit d’estiu_ ”, I decided I’d write a footie AU based on it. If you’ve been looking forward to watch the movie, I’d recommend you to watch the movie before reading this work, for this contains spoilers for the original plot.
> 
> I’ll be updating this work whenever I can, each chapter will follow a different part of the story. Each of the mini-stories have a different POV person.
> 
> This work hasn’t been beta’d, so blame me for typos and grammar mistakes.
> 
> Title comes from Joan Duasà’s [Quan Tothom Dorm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAn948XlJVs), part of “Barcelona, nit d’estiu” OST. It means “Only you and me.”
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and I really encourage you to watch the movie! :D

 

Kun was merely passing by a bookstore that was on his way to the bus stop when he stepped into the wrong hallway. A couple— two men were making out intensively before his own eyes. One of the men was considerably taller, and his hands held a firm grasp on the smaller one’s arse, whilst his arms circled the other’s waist. Kun’s intentions had been to buy a couple of postcards, and the couple happened to be standing right before them. The idea quickly faded as they didn’t seem to be leaving the bookshop anytime soon. He could buy the postcards at the airport, anyway.

“Uh,” he mumbled and hurried to step away from the hallway, making sure his luggage didn’t hit any bookshelf. “Sorry.”

The couple adverted him as he turned on his back, and they followed him onto the center of the bookshop as well. Somehow Kun always found himself in those kind of awkward situations, in which the only thing he could do was to turn around and walk away.

He was about to head to the opposite direction of the bookshop to see if he could find something else when he caught a glimpse of the shorter man’s face. Undoubtedly, there were millions of people in Barcelona, and the casualties of finding someone in such a large city when they hadn’t had contacts in what seemed an eternity were but a few. Despite that, Kun was certain he knew the shorter man. How could he ever forget about him? Dimples, large nose, the sweetest laughter someone could ever have, and extremely skilled at football.

“Leo?”

His voice was soft and caring, and for a moment Kun wished he hadn’t spoken out loud. The small man let go of the other’s hand and turned around instantly, keeping the smile on his face. He’d been right. That brown hair and pointy ears were unmistakable. Kun’s heart beated faster in his chest as Lionel Messi walked over at him.

“Kun!” He exclaimed joyfully, enveloping Kun into a tight hug. He only had time to put the luggage on the floor. The next second, Leo’s thin lips were pressed against Kun’s cheek, and as he started to hug his fellow argentinian back, Kun allowed himself to breathe all of Leo’s scent in.  “Oh my God, it is you. I thought I’d seen you back in the— never mind, I thought I’d seen you earlier but I thought I was going crazy. How in hell was I supposed to know you were back in here?”

“I suppose it would’ve been impossible,” he admitted. “It wasn’t planned.”

“You should’ve texted me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckled warmly, as if Kun was telling an internal joke. “It’s okay,” Leo said as he withdrew himself from Kun’s arms. “We ran into each other here, anyway. That has to mean something, huh?”

“What?” Kun narrowed his eyes, smiling. “Like it was some kind of fate for us to find each other again?”

Instead of replying, Leo punched his shoulder lightly. He was still the same guy Kun’d seen almost over a year ago, the same kind smile and unique personality that Kun wouldn’t change for anything in the world. _Fuck_. Leo’d always had that kind of effect on him, always captivating him with little actions that not everyone could perceive. It wasn’t until Kun dared to look away from him that he remembered Leo wasn’t alone. The other man, tall and with a rather muscular body was standing behind him, a brow arched in confusion as he was probably waiting for an explanation.

His eyes trailed down Leo’s body to find his belt was unlocked, and as soon as Kun’s eyes met Leo’s again, he noticed it as well.

“Oh,” he said with a pink blush on his cheeks, hurrying to fix his belt. “It always undoes itself.”

Kun smiled. “Sure.”

“The luggage,” Leo pointed out. “Taking some vacations from Madrid? Or does it mean you’re moving back in Barcelona?”

“No, actually came back to pick up some of my things,” Kun confessed. He still owned the flat he used to have when he lived in Barcelona, never ready to move on. “But I am moving, actually. I’m going to Manchester.”

“Oh, that’s…” Kun knew he was struggling to get the words out, or at least he suspected it. Leo reached out for him and patted his upper arm. “That’s great.”

“Yes, thanks.” He grinned again. “How’s your brother, by the way? Has he learned how to play PES properly?”

Leo chuckled, arching his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, you know Bojan. He tries to be good at PES but he keeps getting mad at me for picking Barcelona first. I guess that’s why he misses you.”

“I miss him too.” Bojan was a lovely boy, even if he was only five years younger than them, his characteristic behaviour made him seem just like a child, and everyone adored him.  “By the way, mind to introduce us?” Kun whispered with rascality, glancing over at the taller man.

“Oh, crap.” Leo seemed to have forgotten about his companion, but he quickly reached for the man’s arm and dragged him closer, giggling as his heavy steps echoed on the small bookshop. “Right, so— Kun, this is Cristiano, my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. Of course.

Kun shook his hand and muttered a small salute. His grip was firm, and he didn’t seem much like an arsehole now that he was closer to him.

“And Cris— this is Kun, an old friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cristiano spoke and the portuguese accent was thick in his voice.

“Same.” Kun forced a smile as his eyes met Cristiano’s, and he let go of his hand. “Brazilian?” He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head a little to a side as he took a guess on Cristiano’s nationality. He clearly wasn’t from any spanish-speaking country, unless he was from Gallice, of course, but that’d be too much of a casualty.

“No,” he replied with a small chuckle. “Portuguese.”

“Oh,” Kun faked surprise. He did speak portuguese though. Maybe Leo had a thing for the language. “I’ve been to Portugal once— Lisbon and Porto. Your country is very lovely.”

“It is, indeed. I am taking you are from Argentina as well?” Cristiano asked, glancing over at Leo, who’d been smiling ever since Kun saw his face.

“Yes, from the great city of Buenos Aires.”

“I’d like to go sometime,” he confessed, throwing an arm around Leo’s shoulders. “Leo’s always saying he’ll take me to his country, but I’ve been waiting for over six months now.”

“You’re always busy! Cristiano’s a lawyer,” Leo informed him. “He’s just finished his career, and he’s also a DJ.”

“Or at least I try to,” Cristiano added.

The three of them shared some smiles and when the silence took over the conversation for more than five seconds, he knew there was nothing else to be said. Leo had a boyfriend, it was nice to know that. He was tall, portuguese, a lawyer and DJ. The best thing was that he made Leo giggle— not that it was an hard task to do, but if he made Leo happy, then Kun would be happy for him.

“Well,” Kun broke the silence, “I gotta get going.” He grabbed the luggage from the floor and pulled Leo into a one-armed hug, kissing his cheek. “It was a pleasure,” he said, offering Cristiano his hand.

“Pleasure is mine,” the portuguese replied as he accepted the handshake. “And I’m sorry for—” He pointed back at the postcards hallway, and Kun shook his head dismissively and let go of his hand.

“It’s okay.”

“It was nice seeing you,” Leo mumbled with the hint of a smile, yet his arm went back to circle his boyfriend’s waist. “Goodbye, Kun.”

Kun did his best not to let any of his emotions show, but he stared into Leo’s eyes for a few seconds. “Bye,” he said.

His hand tightened around the luggage’s handle and he walked away from the bookshop.

 


	2. Cesc I

 

“Go, go!”

Cesc controlled the ball with his chest and kicked it. The midfielder he had at his back had a tight grip on the back of his jersey, but he was nimble enough to get out of his grip and run to the place he’d kicked the ball. He’d always been fast, so it was easy to reach the ball before the rival team got to it. His body worked in perfect synchronization: he kept the ball rolling at his feet as he ran towards the box, eyes searching for open teammates in the nearness. Two defenders tried to take the ball away from him, but he dodged them gracefully and kicked the ball at Jordi.

“Good one!” The coach shouted from the side of the pitch, yet Cesc made his best not to be distracted by it. “Come on, boys, c’mon!”

“Here, pass it over!”

“Move, asshat.”

“I’m here, André!”

Numbing the words was easy, Cesc was accustomed to that. But as he got closer to the box his eyes kept searching for the ball. In between defenders and teammates, Cesc found himself alone in the middle of the box. Only a small whistle was needed for Jordi to spot him and pass the ball at him with a brilliant technique. Cesc didn’t even bother on controlling it, he waited, making a quick calculation in mind. He took two steps backs and then the ball was landing at his feet. Cesc kicked it without hesitation and then the ball was hitting the back of the net.

“Fuck,” the goalkeeper exclaimed.

There was a small cheer among his teammates and coach, but Cesc didn’t wish to join them. Instead, he took counted steps to step out of the pitch and stared blankly at the stands. It was incredibly how many times he’d been playing in the little stadium and how every time he’d feel he was at home. Sure, it was a little stadium compared to the Camp Nou and others in Spain, but Cesc had too many memories spent in there to dislike it.

“Look at this beautiful green pitch,” a voice said at his back almost as if reading his mind. _Gerard_. There was no need to look at him, Cesc would recognise that voice anytime, anywhere. “The little stadium that has seen you grown into an amazing player.” Gerard’s hand fell on his shoulder, bringing a smile to Cesc’s face. “And now you’re leaving it all behind.”

It was then when Cesc turned around to face Gerard. There was a twin smile plastered on his dumb face, his white teeth bright under the last hours of a sunny summer day in Barcelona. His hair was perfect even after playing the whole match, and he wondered how could someone be that beautiful.

“What if I don’t have to?” He joked. “What if I stay?”

Gerard’s smile froze. “Have you lost your mind? Who would want to play in this shitty pitch?”

“Geri…” His words made Cesc chuckle, just like they always did. Gerard was the funny guy, constantly bringing a smile on Cesc’s face even in the most distressing situations. Some people might even say it was a gift, because Gerard had that effect on anyone. “Wasn’t this little stadium beautiful?”

“The stands are made out of plastic,” he scolded. “Nobody comes to sees us play.”

“That’s a lie, our friends always—”

“Our friends aren’t the same,” Gerard reproached before he had time to enlarge his useless excuse. “You can’t actually think Iker and Sergio are our fans. Plus, most of our friends come see us play because they love football, not because our club is good.”

Cesc sighed, starting to walk towards the tunnel. Gerard had a point, but there were also certain followers that really admired the club, mainly because their ancestors had played for it or had some actions within the club in the past. In any case, Cesc had always been thankful for said fans, because due to a friendly match they played against Espanyol in the end of last season, a scout had come into the game and spotted him right away. Ever since then, Cesc’s agent had kept in contact with the scout, and apparently his career was about to take a big turn.

“And what should I do with architecture?” Cesc said out loud. “Just— abandon it? Throw it all away?”

“Come on, Cescki, you still have to take three more years to graduate, and this opportunity is one in a million.”

“You know just how much effort I’ve put into architecture,” he reminded Gerard, giving him a look. Gerard immediately mirrored the look, both remembering all those sleepless nights in which Cesc had been studying to no end. “And I really love it. If I accept the offer, maybe the world could be losing its new _Gaudí._ ”

Gerard laughed in disbelief. “You? The new _Gaudí_?”

“Yes, the new _Gaudí_.”

“Are you seriously willing to look away from something you’ve wished ever since you could kick a ball?” Gerard inquired. “Three more years to graduate, Cesc, that’s a lot of time.”

His words echoed in the back of his mind. That was also true. If he approved all of his signatures, Cesc could be graduating in three or four years, but that’d mean less and less football in his life as his architecture career moved forward. And he truly loved architecture, loved everything about the career and loved the friendships he’d made, Cesc was clear on that subject. But football meant a lot to him as well, he felt free when he was on the pitch, there was a feeling in his chest that he never had while in architecture.

“This isn’t easy, Geri…” He whispered as he entered the tunnel. The same melancholy had been hitting him hard that week, every time he crossed the tunnel felt like the last time he’d do it, the last time he’d be there. The decision wasn’t made, but the only two answers to the questions kept bringing Cesc down.

“Cesc, wait.” Gerard’s hand circled around his arm and kept him from walking further into the tunnel. Ever since training was over, he’d been looking forward to take a cold shower and hope his anxiety could wash away with the water, but Gerard’s blue eyes were just as calming. “Barça wants to sign you. _FC Barcelona_. Why are you hesitating now?”

He licked his lips. “What if I fuck it up? What if I play like shit?”

“No,” Gerard said with a small laugh. His eyes shune bright and Cesc felt the knot on his throat easily fading. He rubbed his hand on Cesc’s arm, warming his skin more. “You’re going to make it just fine. You’re the best, remember? You’ve always been the best.”

“But Gerard, I—”

“There are no ‘buts,’ not now. You’re the best player I’ve seen, and I’m sure as hell you’re going to do perfectly in Barça.”

Cesc felt his pulse race at Gerard’s words. He was always bringing him up with all kind of kind words, never missing the chance to remind Cesc of how big he thought of him. At times it distressed Cesc, because he knew just how good Gerard was himself.

Their eyes were locked together, and Gerard gave him an understanding nod, to which Cesc replied with an identical one.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and resumed his walk towards the dressing room.

The grip on his arm was still there, and he’d been waiting for Gerard to free him, but instead, the blue eyes man pulled him closer. “Cesc, wait,” he muttered in a deep voice. His expression softened considerably. Cesc had no idea how he could show such vulnerability while being 1,93m tall and having a strong character with other people. He liked him that way. Gerard looked around, and once he noticed no one was coming from either end of the tunnel, he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “You know how much I adore you, don’t you?”

Cesc smiled. Of course he did.

His hands took hold of the front of his shirt’s neck and pulled him closer. Cesc had to tip-toe in order to reach the man’s face, but he kept his balance and pressed his mouth against Gerard’s. He could feel the smile against his lips, Gerard’s beard brushing against his cheeks. He knew they had to be careful whenever they were in the stadium, but his love for Gerard was simply too much. Cesc deepened the kiss when Gerard’s hand let go of his arm to settle on the back of his neck, inciting him go in for more. The moment felt magical, it always did. He let go of Gerard’s jersey and got his feet on the ground, and as soon as it had started, the kiss was coming to an end.

However, Gerard’s arms didn’t let go of him. They wrapped around Cesc’s shoulders and pulled him closer to his chest, and Cesc appreciated the motion to loops his arms on Gerard’s broad torso. Their hugs were always intense, either with people around or not. It was one of the few times in which they’d be able to show emotion without actually being judged for it. Gerard buried his face on Cesc’s neck, and he giggled as his beard made contact with the naked and sensitive skin.

Eventually, they let go of each other, both with a pleasant smile on their faces.

“Let’s go, jackass,” Gerard told him as he checked their surroundings again, and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, but he conceded after punching him back.

Cesc walked down the tunnel and could feel Gerard behind him as they quickly reached the dressing room. Most of the players were already there, chatting, some of them without their shirts on. Cesc made his way to the large bench in which he’d left his clothes, and suddenly became aware of the amount of eyes set on him. He looked around before daring to pull his shirt off. Silence fell on the room and their looks felt even more threatening than before. Cesc soon realised they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at _them_.

 _Oh God_.

A cold drop of sweat trailed down his back as he started to panic. Had they seen Gerard and him just moments ago? All of them? Were they hating Cesc now? He felt his hands growing just as cold and anxiety invaded his body once more. Gerard was next to him, starting to take his uniform off. His shirt was off, revealing his marked abs. However, that wasn’t the time to look at Gerard, not now. He was too nervous.

“What happened?” He whispered in the lowest voice he could, looking straight into Gerard’s blue eyes. He could tell the fright was noticeable in his face just by the way Gerard furrowed his eyebrows.

Gerard teared his gaze off Cesc to look around the place. “I have no idea.”

Their eyes were still set on Cesc’s back, and they felt sharp as knives. Cesc was about to turn and ask Gerard a few more questions, but as soon as he did, he got champagne splattered all over his face.

“Congratulations, Cescki, Barça signed you!” He exclaimed joyfully, pouring even more champagne on Cesc. His hair got wet, and his eyes burned a little, but the feeling was worth it. The easy smile found his way back to his face and the anxiety started to fade once more. “That’s what happened!”

Once there was no more champagne to be poured, Cesc made an attempt to dry his eyes. His eyelids fluttered open and he found all the teammates now close to him, chanting and patting his shoulders. Gerard, of course. He’d be the kind of jerk to plan that kind of surprise. Cesc laughed and clasped his teammates hands, accepting the hugs and good words they had to say, but he was truly happy when he spotted Gerard’s face again and the older man winked at him.

Gerard offered him a hand to clasp, so he reached out for it. Instead, Gerard pulled him into another hug and whispered words that were only for his ear to hear. “You’ve made it, Cescki.”

When they drew back, he couldn’t keep the tears of joy from falling down.

 

 


	3. Kun II

 

The remains of daylight were a flawless mix of orange and yellow at late hours of the afternoon, giving Barcelona a beautiful look. Perhaps sunsets like that day’s were one of the things he missed the most about Barcelona. Kun travelled a lot, and he’d seen a lot of sunsets, but Barcelona’s sunsets had their own unique beauty.

Kun was crossing the street to reach the bus stop, earplugs on with Nene Malo at the max volume his iPod had. Despite living in Europe since he became an adult, Kun always carried cumbia with him wherever he went. He’d have to wait for his bus to arrive and then he’d have to spend a good amount of hours at the airport and wait for his flight.

He flinched a little when he felt his backpack being shaken, forcing him to turn around.

“Hey!”

It was Leo, again. He should feel a little annoyed because he thought he was being robbed, but Leo had the kindest smile on his face and it made Kun’s insides twist in fluffiness.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?”

“Hey,” Leo said again, and it made the two of them giggle. “I’m going to _Mercurio_ tonight. Cristiano is going to be the DJ,” he explained, and Kun looked over Leo’s shoulder to see the portuguese standing at the other side of the street with his arms lifted up. Had Leo ran all his way there to follow him? “So I was thinking you should come too. I bet it’d be fun, huh? Like the old times.”

 _The old times._ He’d visited Mercurio with Leo before. It was a club that was very popular among their group of friends. They’d go there and get wasted, let their bodies dance to whatever music was playing. Kun wasn’t really that good at dancing, only when cumbia or cuarteto was playing he considered himself skilled enough to get on the dancefloor.

“Thanks for the invitation, Leo, but I really need to get the bus. Got a flight to catch.”

“Yes, I know, but what time does your flight leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, but—”

“Oh, all is settled, then!” Leo exclaimed, and Kun recognised his mistake. “You can come with us.”

“But I had something else planned. I don’t know, I wanted to pay Gerard a visit now that I was here, it’s been a long time since I last seen him,” he lied. There were no plans on visiting Gerard, his only plan was to go to the airport and wait in silence.

Leo frowned. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me too.”

“But—” He searched for an excuse in his mind, yet he couldn’t find one good enough to speak it out loud.

They hadn’t seen each other for what felt too much time, but things had changed. They were not the boys they were over a year ago. They don’t even looked the same; Kun carried a stubble, whilst Leo had cut his hair. And if Kun had to bet, the changes within them weren’t only physical.

“Is it because Cristiano?” Leo asked in a low voice, almost as if they were telling secrets. “Because Cristiano is a good guy, he’s very funny. I promise you’ll like him.”

Liking Cristiano was something that probably would never happen. The first impression hadn’t been entirely bad, but Kun felt he was the kind of men who liked to work on their bodies more than they cared about the actual knowledge they got in their brains. Was Leo into that kind of guys now? There were many questions that he wouldn’t be able to know the answer to.

Leo was still looking at him, and his frank expression kept doing things to Kun. It’d been a year and he was still to take control over him by just one look, one gesture and Kun would be saying yes to anything he asked for. Pipita always said that was Leo’s way of manipulating him, but Kun knew better. Leo wasn't manipulative, he simply wore his heart on his sleeve and after spending years with Leo, Kun had started to do it as well.

“I’d really like to spend some time with you,” Leo said, breaking the silence.

It was all it took for Kun to agree.

“Okay, but only for a couple of hours, okay?”

“Yes, just for a couple of hours.”

As he followed Leo back to the side of the street were his boyfriend had been patiently waited, he knew he’d stay for as long Leo wanted him to.

 


	4. Iker I

 

“Yes, Unai,” Iker mumbled over the phone. “I’ll call you later, we still have one box to unpack. Yes, tell mum I’ll call her tomorrow morning too. Okay. Take care, I love you too,” he said and blew a kiss on the phone. “Bye.”

As he walked into the living room, Iker found Sergio knelt beside the TV and cursing under his breath. Iker left the phone over a table and grabbed the unfinished bag of crisps he’d left there before talking on the phone with his little brother, throwing a handful of them in his mouth. Sergio  had his hand on the back of the TV, whilst his eyes were glued to the screen. The image was barely visible through many grey, black and white flashes that kept coming back, and even though it was on mute, the static made Iker feel quite uneasy.

“You’re really corny with your brother.”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What are you doing with the TV?”

“I have no idea,” Sergio said with the most chilled voice. He stood up from the floor and clasped his hands loudly. “I think it’s broken.”

“Jesus, Sergio, I’ve told you like a million of times you have to hit it on the side.” Iker walked over the TV and gave the carcass a mall punch with an open palm, and the newschannel image came back. It wasn’t totally clear, but the image had improved considerably. “See?”

Sergio’s eyes were set on the screen, but he didn’t seem impressed at what Iker had just done. Instead of commenting anything, he grabbed the crisps from Iker’s hand and poured them directly into his mouth. The crunches that came with each bite annoyed Iker to no end, but the sound became unessential when the image of the newschannel lady disappeared and turned into screen noise again.

“Fuck,” Iker mumbled and ducked beside the TV again, his palm impacting against the carcass repeatedly. Instead of getting a clear image, on the fifth hit the TV screen turned black. “Fucking shit.”

“Okay, now it’s actually broken,” Sergio said and walked over to the their couch, where he dropped himself and ate more crisps. “Now you gotta buy a new one.”

Iker arched his brows. “ _I_ gotta buy a new one? This TV was mine.”

“Which proves my point. You should buy a new one because you’ve already got experience buying TVs!”

He rolled his eyes. Living with Sergio had its pros and cons, Iker became aware of that the moment he agreed to it, but in the last couple of days Sergio’s childish behaviour had been driving him mad. Even before moving in together, Iker knew Sergio was a bit immature, but lately his lack of common sense was starting to border on the stupid line. He never cared for laundry, nor helping Iker clean, and he’d left Iker to move around the furniture just as he wished. In fact, looking back, Sergio had only helped with the cooking.

“Or we can buy it fifty-fifty,” Sergio suggested. “What do you think?”

Before he had to chance to speak his mind, the reply to Sergio’s question came with the ring of the doorbell. The two friends exchanged a look before Sergio jumped to his feet and brushed the remains of crisps from his chest.

“I’ll get the door,” he informed Sergio. He retrieved the keys from his pockets and unlocked the door. Iker couldn’t suppress the smile from his face when he saw Xabi standing there, hiding his eyes under black sunglasses. His hair was the same as the last time they’d seen each other, but a ginger beard was now covering his face and highlighting his basque heritage. “You’re here,” Iker said with a smile.

“Of course I am,” Xabi said. He took a step forward without needing for Iker’s permission and pulled him into a hug. “You said six-thirty, and you know I’m _never_ late.”

“Usual Xabi.”

They chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”

Iker didn’t say anything in reply. It was hard for him to say his emotions out loud, at least when the other person wasn’t Unai. But he clutched Xabi’s shoulders tighter and hoped his friend would know he shared the feeling.

“Come on,” he said, keeping an arm around Xabi’s shoulders as they drew back. “Let’s go inside.”

Xabi gave him a slight nod and, after closing the door, the two ventured to the inside of the house. Sergio was now on the kitchen, back resting against the surface of the fridge. He wore a mischievous smile on his face, and his arms were crossed on his chest.

“Iker, I’ve told you I don’t want soulless basque people in this house,” Sergio scolded, pointing at Xabi with his finger. Xabi took his glasses off and arched a brow.“Especially if they now watch the Premier League.”

“Really?” He said, letting go of Iker’s waist to walk towards Sergio. They both were facing each other, and Iker was simply grinning at Xabi’s back. “Well, that’s a good thing, because I won’t be giving you the big toblerone I bought for you in the airport on my way back.”

The andalusian opened his arms wide and the seriousness from his face was completely erased, replaced by a broad smile. “Xabier!” He exclaimed, and Xabi gave into the hug. “It’s nice to see you again.” He kissed both of Xabi’s cheeks before letting go of him. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Whilst Sergio walked back to the fridge, Iker motioned Xabi to follow him towards the living room. He opted for taking a seat at the table and leaving the couch for Xabi. He missed the times in which they all lived in Madrid and they used to hang around at one of their flats until they saw the sunlight, simply drinking a couple of beers and chatting until they realised they didn’t know what they were talking about anymore. Iker sure missed those days, because without Xabi and David things simply weren’t the same. David. He’d gone back to England the last year, and he’d left a vacant space in Iker’s heart. They still texted quite often, but nothing compared to the sound of his laughter or the faces he made at Iker when no one else was watching.

“Hey, Xabi,” he called him. “Were you able to visit David while you were in England?”

He sighed. “Well, yes, but only for a couple of hours,” Xabi explained with a frown. “Mister Beckham thinks he’s too busy to talk to his old friends.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, I know.” Sergio was back and handed Xabi the bottle of beer, which he accepted. “He’s got a model girlfriend now, really pretty. They look like a magazine couple.”

“I’m sure they do,” Iker said with a sad smile. David hadn’t told him about a girlfriend, but Iker had to be happy for him, he deserved a nice girl at his side, especially if she was as gorgeous as David was.

“Enough talk about David, though,” Xabi exclaimed after taking a sip from the beer. “Let’s talk about you guys. Has the new couple had any marital fights lately?”

Sergio bluffed. “Why would we have to fight?”

“Because you can be very close friends and love each other, but after you move in together, things stop being the same.”

“Xabi, I think you’ve gone delusional,” Sergio said, grabbing a beer from the fridge and approaching Iker carefully. He was considerably muscular compared to Iker, but still, he hopped on Iker’s lap and threw his arms around Iker’s shoulders. “Our love is pure, there’s no room for fights in this house.”

Iker complied to his act and wrapped his arms around Sergio’s waist. “You tell him, babe.”

“Yeah.” Xabi chuckled. “Let’s see how you do in two weeks.”

“It’s you, people from the north. You’re always backstabbing your friends without mercy, aren’t you.”

The basque’s mouth dropped open. “Iker! How can you allow him to say that?”

“I can’t control him,” Iker explained. “Just don’t pay attention to him, you’re our friend and you’ve never backstabbed us.”

“Or that’s what you think,” Sergio mumbled in his ear. “He’s also a ginger, he’s got no soul.”

Xabi showed him the finger and finished the beer in mere seconds. Iker was laughing at Sergio’s occurrences. People could find him annoying from time to time, but Iker really liked to be around him, in spite of everything. Perhaps living together could help them both, help Sergio with his childishness and help Iker with his lack of patience and his need to have control over everything. Very therapeutic.

“Anyway,” Xabi said and stood from the couch. “Should we get going?”

“Yes!”

Just as easily as Sergio had hopped on his lap, he got to his feet once again. His own beer was drained in less than five seconds and Iker rolled his eyes as he stood from the chair. He only hoped Sergio wouldn’t get that drunk if they had to go back to the flat before sunrise. Iker did a quick trip to his room and picked up a jacket, and went back to the living room to find his friends already waiting for him.

“Oh, by the way, don’t forget we gotta pick my friend Stevie,” Xabi commented as he put the sunglasses back on.

“Oh, right, the friend you made in England.” Iker remembered a few things about him, but Xabi had informed them both earlier that his friends was coming to Barcelona a few days for what was left of the summer. “Does he know you’re taking us with you?”

“Yes, don’t worry about that.”

They all approached the door, and Sergio handed Xabi his own keys so he could unlock it. Iker was about to follow next, but Sergio stopped him abruptly with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do you think that Stevie friend is cute?” He asked in a low voice so Xabi wouldn’t hear.

“I have no idea,” Iker confessed.

“But he _has_ to be gay, right?”

“I don’t know him—”

“Xabi has lots of gay friends, oh, please, let him be cute.”

Iker simply shook his head and pushed Sergio through the open door. He didn’t really care if Stevie was cute, he wouldn’t be David. The door closed behind Iker’s back and then they were all ready to go.

 


	5. Bojan I

 

The large tower of books on the table was daring to fall down every time Bojan threw his pencil angrily at the table. He’d been making himself study for the last couple of hours and it was starting to make him weary. There was a big exam next week and he needed to get a good note if he wanted to approve economics. Bojan had been an excellent student during his whole life, getting greater grades than his older brother, but the second year of University was starting to drive him insane.

“Bo…” Sergi said at his back. “Bo. _Bojan_.”

With a loud sigh, he looked over his shoulder. “What?”

Sergi was wearing a pair of black boxers and an oversized Nirvana shirt, eating cereal from a mug. He’d invited Sergi to his house the previous night, and after they’d watched three movies, Bojan realised it was too late for Sergi to go back to his own house, so he’d suggested it would be better if he stayed the night. Sergi hadn’t had a problem with that, but earlier that day, when the two of them were waking up at three PM, Bojan realised he needed to study for what was left of the day.

He couldn’t blame Sergi for being bored whilst he was studying, he was a year younger than Bojan and he didn’t have to study as much as him. But Sergi had still told him he’d stay the afternoon at his place since Bojan’s parents were in Mallorca for the summer and his brother had gone out with his boyfriend.

“Rafa and Thiago are throwing a party tonight.”

“Oh.” He remembered something about it. Thiago had texted him last night, but Bojan barely paid attention to the message because the movie he’d been watching with Sergi was too engaging. “At their house?” Bojan asked, trying to concentrate in the paper before him.

“Of course. Those brothers are lucky to have such a big house all for themselves.”

“I guess so,” he mumbled idly.

Sergi sat across from him on the table, and grabbed the top half of his books towers and cut it in half. Only then they were able to see each other over the books.

“Marc is coming to the party,” Sergi commented as if it were irrelevant, yet Bojan was sure he did it intentionally.

“Which Marc?”

“Both Marcs.” He drank the remains of milk from the mug and then wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Bojan. “Bartra _and_ Muniesa.”

The mere mention of his name made Bojan freeze in spot. How could he keep up with his economics homework when now he closed his eyes and saw Marc’s perfect face in the back of his eyelids? The last time he’d see Marc he’d made a fool of himself, spilling a Starbucks coffee on his paper. Marc had laughed about it and helped him clean the table, but Bojan had felt embarrassed to no end.

“It’s a costume party, isn’t it?” Sergi asked.

“That’s what said Thiago’s text, I believe.”

“Are you going?”

Bojan hesitated, but his eyes dropped back to the paper in front of him. “No.”

“Bo, you have chances to be with Marc,” he said, grabbing one of the books and eyeing without interest. “I see the way he looks at you.”

“He looks at me the same way he looks at you. Marc doesn’t like me.” Bojan was certain of that. Marc was the kind of person who treated everyone with especial care, he was all kind smiles and delicate touches that could make anyone have a crush on him. “Plus, he’s never said anything about going out on a date.”

“That’s because he’s sort of shy.”

“He isn’t _that_ shy.”

“No, he isn’t, but I know when I see a potential couple,” Sergi kept pushing. “It’s not as if Marc is going to kiss you out of the blue to let you know he likes you. Would you do that to him?”

Bojan blushed. “O-of course I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly, and you’ve clearly got a crush on him, so we must go to that party.”

“I really need to study, Sergi.”

“No,” his friend replied, grabbing the pencil from his hand and dragging the sheet of paper to his side of the table. “You need to have a little fun.”


	6. Xavi I

 

“Jesus fuck, Xavi,” Fernando breathed out, looking at the city head from the house’s balcony. “What a beautiful house you’ve got here.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a little smile.

“You could have another couch on the second floor,” he added with a wink, “but hey, it’s still beautiful.”

“Thank you, Nando.”

They were all gathered at Xavi’s new place to see the comet in the night. He’d bought the house a couple of weeks ago, a magnificent new house that looked just like a magazine’s. It had two floors, and thanks to its large spaces, Xavi could afford to have two living rooms. The main floor’s living room was mainly to watch TV with friends, or for when his family came over to visit, but the one on the second floor had been made for special occasions, like that night’s.

“So, everyone’s ready?” He asked at his friends.

“Yes,” replied Villa, who was just walking in with two bottles of wine. “Never been readier.”

“I still can’t believe you guys planned this night six years ago,” Juan, Fernando’s boyfriend, said. He was the younger of the small group of friends, but after having a decent chat with him before the two Davids arrived, Xavi could see why Fernando had picked him. He was clever, kind, and very friendly. “That’s what I commitment.”

“I’d call it a drunken night that got out of our hands,” Villa replied. “I can’t remember who’d have the magazine with the news about the comet, but I hope they know how much I hate them right now.”

Silva elbowed him on the ribs. “Come on, you were looking forward this day for the past couple of weeks.”

“Honey!” Villa accused him with a smirk. “Don’t go telling the guys my secrets; you know how annoying Fernando can be.”

Fernando simply rolled his eyes, which caused all the guys around him to laugh. Even Xavi found himself grinning and shaking his head, and Juan tip-toed beside Fernando to place a kiss in his cheek. “You’re not annoying,” he said loud enough so everyone could hear.

“Gotta tell you, Nando,” Xavi said, gesturing at Juan with a tilt of his head. “He’s a keeper.”

Anyway,” Silva said. “I’m simply happy that someone noticed the news about the comet on the magazine, because now we’re all here.”

“Well, not _all_ of us.”

“What happened with Sergio and Andrés anyway?”

“Sergio didn’t want to come when I told him Fernando would be here, which is understandable, I guess,” Xavi explained, pouring wine into his glass. “And I think Andrés must be on his way here.”

“He isn’t, though,” Fernando joined the conversation, taking a seat next to Xavi on the table. “I think Andrés won’t be able to make it. He texted me earlier saying Pedro was still at the office and he didn’t know if he could come tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

He led the cup to his lips, absorbing the exquisite red wine scent. By now Xavi didn’t know if those were good news or bad news. He’d been looking forward to seeing Andrés, he always did. The time spent with Andrés was always worthy, whether it was a five minutes encounter in the market, or a two hours long chat over coffee. Xavi found himself smiling without reason, staring right into Andrés’ hazel eyes and losing himself on them.

“You should chill a little, Xavi,” Villa whispered with the wink of an eye. “If you keep drinking like that, we’re gonna need to open another bottle soon.”

If Xavi had to be honest, he hoped they did.


	7. Rafa I

 

What Rafa hated about having Thiago behind the wheel wasn’t the radio station he picked nor his way of speeding up at any given time, but his lack of patience when it came to the other drivers. He’d pull his arm out of the window and show his finger without caring whom the other driver was, shout insults and then resume his conversation with Rafa as if nothing had happened. It was one of the little flaws Thiago had, but Rafa still wouldn’t change his brother for anything in the world.

They were heading back home after buying some things for that night’s party. Thiago had taken care of the food and snacks whilst Rafa had  opted for picking the drinks. The trunk of the car was full of things that’d probably won’t be wasted in vain. After all, they hadn’t organised a party in months. If their parents could see them right now, they’d be proud of them.

Well, technically.

Rafa’s hand was idly caressing the back of Thiago’s neck for a while now, the older brother humming happily as Rafa traced small lines with his fingertips.

“Did you get a reply from Bojan?” Thiago asked as he took a left turn, leaning into Rafa’s touch.

“No, but I did get one from Sergi, he said he was coming.”

“That’s good. If Sergi is coming there’s a good chance Bojan might be coming too.”

Rafa chuckled. “Yes, and that might be good, because he’s clearly over his head about Marc.”

“Bartra?” Thiago inquired with disbelief. “I thought he actually was with Sergi.”

“No, Muniesa. You know, the blond one that smiles like a dork.”

“Oh, Javi’s blond doppelgänger.”

“He looks _nothing_ like Javi,” Rafa reproached. “Is he coming?”

Thiago gave him a look. "Generally. I can’t throw a party and not invite him, Rafa.”

“Sure.” His dry answer affected Thiago, because then he was turning his head to place a small kiss on Rafa’s wrist. “You should keep your eyes on the road.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t risk your life, amor,” Thiago replied as his gaze shifted back to the road. “By the way, did we get enough gin?"

“We did,” he replied, dropping his head against the seat headrest to get a better look at his face. Rafa resumed what he’d been doing, his fingers moving now in circular motion right behind Thiago’s ear, then caressing the back of his neck. He could feel him relaxing under his touch as  they stopped in a red light. “And we didn’t.”

His brother quirked a brow. “Okay, you can explain.”

“We bought enough gin, vodka and rum for the party, but I don’t think we bought enough gin for ourselves.”

“Oh.” Thiago turned his head away from the road to give Rafa a satisfied smile. “ _I see._ ”

They both had plans to continue the party after everyone was gone. Maybe they wouldn’t be needing alcohol at all, there was nothing more intoxicating than the taste of Thiago’s skin. He knew they had all the time in the world, but Thiago had been pushing himself really hard with the finals and he’d barely had time for Rafa. That didn’t bother him, but now that Thiago was one hundred percent available and disposed to spend most of his time with him, Ignoring the fact that Javi would attend the party that night, Rafa couldn’t help but feel happy.

Instead of following the road until they reached their home, Thiago eventually parked the car. Rafa looked around and recognised the liquor store from meters away. His eyes searched his brother’s, and he grinned when he saw Thiago wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him.

Thiago got off the car first, and hurried to be beside Rafa as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk. Thiago held the door open for him, and Rafa felt a bit flattered. His older brother was always doing all kind of nice things for him, and people always noticed it. Their bond as brothers was strong, something impossible to break, and despite friends and family were not able to see beyond their tight brotherly relationship, they were aware of just how attentive and caring Thiago was with him.

He was about to head to the liquor store when Thiago looped his arm around Rafa’s.

“Hold on, cowboy,” he said in a pathetic southern accent. “We’re heading _this way_.”

Instead of the liquor store, Thiago pulled him in the opposite direction. The sun was dying and Barcelona’s sky was painted of orange and yellow, the once white clouds were bright pink. Rafa’s eyes set on the signboard above the place that read Farmàcia in big, green letters. He was puzzled as why was his brother dragging him there, but he let Thiago pull him into the place.

“The pharmacy?”

Thiago giggled, leaning in to press a kiss in Rafa’s jaw. “Trust me.”

Rafa did, he trusted blindly in him. They walked past some shelves offering all sorts of medication: from flu medicine to nasal decongestant, another shelf offering several brands of pregnancy tests and contraceptives. Suddenly, Thiago pushed him to the other side of the hallway, releasing his arm. Thiago took two steps forward and then stopped, so Rafa mimed the action and stood beside his brother.

Before him stood a large shelf that displayed several and different brands of condoms, from flavoured ones to extra-large. Rafa’s face immediately heated up in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting Thiago to be so straightforward about that night’s plans, but he appreciated the motion. His brother’s strong arms circled his waist, Thiago’s chin resting on the crook of Rafa’s neck.

“Pick the ones that you like the most,” he breathed into Rafa’s ear. He felt the smile in his voice, even if he wasn’t able to see his face. “We’re gonna use them tonight.”

Rafa giggled. A part of him wanted to ask Thiago how long had it been since they last used a condom, but he stood silent as he felt Thiago’s fingertips slowly hovering his hipbones above the layer of cloth. On second thought, it wasn’t a bad idea at all to buy them anyway. Rafa made a quick scan on the shelf ahead and after eyeing the different types the shelf offered, he reached to grab a small red box.

“Hmm,” Thiago purred in his ear. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah. I know how much you like strawberry.”

“Perfect combination, then, because that’s not the only thing that I like.”

Thiago was teasing him, and Rafa couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of things his brother would do to him that night. Their bodies were pressing together, Rafa’s back leaning against Thiago’s chest, his buttocks against Thiago’s crotch. Luckily the pharmacy was empty but for the two of them, so there wasn’t a reason to care for judging eyes on them.

“You should grab two,” Thiago advised him, mischief in his voice. “Just to make sure.”

Again, Rafa was giggling at his brother’s fake innocence. The small box contained three strawberry flavoured condoms, so he reached and grabbed a twin one. In a movement, Rafa turned around in Thiago’s arms so the two could be face to face.

“Right,” he said with a cheeky grin. “As if not having any condoms had stopped us before.”

“Oh, shush it.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Rafa leaned in to take his brother’s lips in his own, Thiago kissing back almost immediately. They knew they were in public, but that simply added another reason for them to kiss. It was a non so risky risk they were willing to take. Their lips moved together in perfect synchrony, Rafa’s tongue exploring his brother’s mouth, claiming Thiago’s lips as his own.

“Come one,” Thiago said a bit breathlessly once they’d broken the kiss. His cheeks were slightly blushed and his eyes shun bright. “We have a party to throw.”

“And a comet to see,” Rafa added.


	8. Kun III

He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d let getting himself dragged along to a small café-bar that was near the Mercury club. Leo had led their way there, always walking in front of him, making the path for Kun to follow. They’d taken two buses and two crowded subways to go to the heart of the city, but Leo’s sweet voice was worth it. He’d told Kun all kind of stories in their way back.

Kun had also told him stories, of how Pipita and him had met the argentine musician Andrés Calamaro in Ezeiza the last time he’d been to Buenos Aires, the chocolate incident in Switzerland, thinking of Leo the time he went to a FC Barcelona match in England. Kun had also done many things without Leo, he’d tried to move on with his life. That was the whole point of going to Manchester anyway, wasn’t it? Moving on?

There were many things he wanted to tell Leo, to share with him. He knew which of those things would make him laugh and which would make him frown, what words would leave his mouth before Leo had even thought about them. That was how well Kun knew him.

“So,” Leo spoke after drinking from his beer. “You have everything on you? Your passport, wallet…?”

With a silent nod Kun reached for his wallet and pulled it out, handing the passport to Leo. “Here, take a look at it,” he invited him to open it cordially. Kun didn’t consider himself to be that handsome, but for the first time, he’d looked decent on the passport picture, which was ironic. “I was hungover when they took that picture,” Kun explained, rubbing his eyes. “Pocho had invited me to a party the previous night, and you know how Pocho parties can be.”

“Oh, I know.” Leo chuckled, eyes fixed on Kun’s passport. “Well, look at you, Mr. _Sergio Leonel Agüero_. You look like a rockstar.”

“Why? Do the dark circles under my eyes reveal my true self?”

Leo pulled his tongue out. “Very funny.”

“It’s true, though,” Cristiano joined the conversation, leaning over Leo’s shoulder to take a glimpse at Kun’s picture. He’d been considerably quiet from the moment they’d reached the café-bar, perhaps thinking it’d be a bit awkward to say something when he didn’t know what Kun and Leo were talking about. Kun liked the silence better than the sound of his voice. “You don’t look bad.”

“Don’t look bad? He looks incredibly good,” Leo shot back. “Plus, I think it might be the leather jacket, it makes you look tough.”

“Hey! I am tough.”

The argentinian shot him a glare. “Sure, you’re as tough as a rose.”

“Isn’t that the name of the comet?” Cristiano spoke, and only then Kun remembered he’d read about it on his Twitter feed. It was supposed to be visible in the early morning, if he wasn’t mistaken. “The Rose comet.”

“It is, yeah.”

“Well, I think it’s a lame name for a comet,” Leo commented casually, closing the passport. “Rose comet. Why didn’t they name it something else? Like, I don’t know. Marcelo, Rufio, Balbín…”

_Balbín_.

It was incredible how at times just one word could trigger so many memories and emotions.

“Balbín,” Kun spoke out loud, repeating the word in search for a sign on Leo’s face. Any sign, actually. If his mind was replying all the times they’d gone to Balbín, he expected Leo to keep some of those memories archived in his head as well.

It didn’t take long for Leo’s face to light up, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile.

“Balbín,” he said. “ _Heladería Balbín_.Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” How could Kun forget? They’d gone there so many times that the ice-cream shop owners had named them especial costumbers. “Best ice-creams in Barcelona.”

“Yes,” Leo agreed, still present the laughter in his voice. Then, he turned to face his boyfriend, who’d been looking at the two argentinians with amusement. “The heladería Balbín is an ice-cream shop here in Barcelona, founded by argentine immigrants. They’ve had the shop for— what? Eighty years?” He asked Kun, but he shook his head no, unsure of how long it’d been there for. “Well, a long time ago. They have the best dulce de leche ice-cream you could ever try.”

“Plus, it’s open twenty four-seven,” Kun added with a nice smile.

“I wonder if it still exists…” Leo’s voice faded into silence as he stood up from their table. “I’m going to the restroom, then we’re ready to go.”

Kun had guessed that eventually it had to happen. Statistically, the chances of having to spend some time alone with Leo’s new boyfriend —for how little it might be— were quite high. The portuguese seemed to feel the awkwardness between them. Whenever their gazes meet, one of the two would press their lips into a semi-grin that told just how much they were looking forward for Leo to get back.

“So…” Kun tried to break the awkward silence between them, playing with the beer bottle in his hand. “Being a lawyer and also a DJ must be tough, huh?”

“It’s nice. You get to be serious in the daylight and have fun in the nighttime.”

“Yeah, I can guess that much. Do you even have time for Leo?”

The question seemed to bother Cristiano a little. He stiffened on his seat, gaze sharp and brow furrowed. “I always find time for Leo.”

“Of course.” Kun took a sip from his beer, tensing immediately. He hadn’t meant to attack Cristiano, at least not entirely. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologised out loud.

“It’s fine, Leo’s friends often ask that very same question,” the portuguese replied, shoulders finally dropping. “About that— for how long have you met Leo?”

Kun let out a big puff of air. “It’s been so many years. Like ten years? Eleven?”

“Wow, that’s a lot. Did you meet back in Buenos Aires?”

“No, actually,” Kun admitted with the hint of a smile on his face. Remembering how he’d met Leo brought him all kind of memories, from the first impression he’d had of the shorter man to the naïveness of their first interactions. “We met here in  Barcelona. Life has weird turns, I suppose. Leo always had this big belief in destiny— he’d always say that we were meant to meet one way or another, here in Barcelona or back in Argentina.” He could still hear Leo’s words mumbled against his earlobe in a hot and sticky night at the beach. But he pushed down the memories and shook his head instead. “Got a little bit carried away, you might know about this already.”

Cristiano stared at him.

A pause.

Oh.

He didn’t know what Kun was talking about. He didn’t have an idea about Leo’s beliefs nor about his constant trust in faith and how everything was absurdly connected with strings. Kun remembered everything, and there was something that would never get out of his head. One of Leo’s beliefs was that lovers were connected by a red string that could never be broken. Kun had read about it before, it was some sort of asian belief that resembled the one of the existence of soulmates. He hadn’t believed in any of that, but Leo had, Leo did. At times Kun would’ve liked to ask Leo what’d happened with the red string that tied them together. Had it broke, when the bond was meant to be unbreakable? Or was it still there, weak, and only keeping itself together by a thread?

It didn’t matter now. Leo was tied together with someone else.

“Hey, hold on a minute,” Cristiano said, suddenly pointing his index finger at Kun. “Your passport— it read _Sergio_ , didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Sergio, Sergio…” His eyes widened, as well as his smile. “Oh my God, you’re not any Sergio, you’re that Sergio.”

Kun was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I just— I guess I’d always pictured you taller.”

Kun wanted to say something about the issue, but he didn’t want to bring more awkwardness into the already uncomfortable atmosphere. The only gratifying thing that came from Cristiano’s words were the absolute proof Leo had spoken about him before. It wasn’t much, but Kun thought about it as he drank from his bottle and his lips curved up.

 

 


End file.
